A Machine
by AlFlowerrise
Summary: Even a machine can break. Light knows how. — LightNear


AN: Started to write this stupid thing when I was with a friend and decided to finish it. At least I believe that this is Near's biggest weakness.

* * *

><p><strong>A machine.<strong>

Even a machine can break. Light knows how. — LightNear

—

Unbelievable.

This can't be. He should have won, that was what he swore from the beginning, that was the only thing he had. He should have. But he can't. Not now. Mello is gone, thrown away like trash, Mello is dead. Mello can't do it anymore, his string of life is cut. Near has to—Near has to…

Near is as close to an emotional letdown he can get, although that should be an impossibility. Emotions in general are a petty thing, they are scars on soft skin, they are impact on a cause long forgotten. Leave them aside and the victory should be yours. Analytical resources can trace a line to the goal—emotions will attach you to people and fall with them.

L should have won. But he cared. He started to care about Light Yagami and the sphere of metal became fragile glass—penetrable. L died because he started to trust, started to lose focus and all the time, Light had the triumph card that made the fire start lifting and licking the sky.

L fell.

And now, Near is the only one, and soon, he will be buried under the sand too. Light knows his weakness; Light knows everything and while time passes on—Near will be left in pieces.

How can Light know? Logical reasoning spreads apart, but then, he remembers; L. Near is a lot like L but more extreme, more selfish, more one-tracked. He thought he—and Mello—could step in and take after what L had started, but no.

No.

It's because of this.

"You disappoint me, Near," Light snickers and lets one of his hands gracefully touch Near's chin, moving down, tracing. The skin is so warm, the breath so hot and moist, those eyes are so cold—Near freezes and loses everything.

Self-control melts and Light can form him like he wants.

"So easy," Light continues, leaning closer. "I thought you were a successor to L. But you are nothing. Nothing. You are no match for me. You can't stop me."

Of course Near could not. Near's biggest fear, and biggest weakness, is emotional bonds. Touching makes him crawl inside himself, it starts a chain-reaction, and his mind is in ruins.

"Have you forgotten how to speak?" Light is too close now, his hands under the white shirt, Near doesn't know where to go. "How immature. Acting like a child will not help you. In fact, there's no one to help you. Mello is gone and soon, you will be too. How does it feel, Near, how does it feel to die?"

It's not the words. Near doesn't know how to get hurt by words. Words—and people—mean nothing, for him, they do. Near cared about Mello once and see where it took him. He needs to scale down the world in distinct parts, where results are the only thing that matters. All the time, he thought he could, but it's too late now.

And the kisses. Nonono. Light's kisses are so harsh, like he's trying to shove the warm tongue down Near's throat, they are so wet, so uncomfortable. Light in general is harsh, like Near is just a toy, and for Light he is. He slams Near in the wall, his hands squish until milky skin turns red, teeth so sharp, it makes Near taste blood.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Please stop.

But he never does.

Sometimes, though, things change. Sometimes Light treats him like porcelain, inviting him to soft embraces, gently ruffles white curls, surrounding the truth among thick fog. Although, now, Near knows the truth. It's a game, but Near can't help it, when Light changes to his gentle half of the coin, Near can almost, almost, _almost_, enjoy it.

He doesn't trust Light but he lets himself get rousted in the flames.

And then, there are times like this. Times when Light lets the air get filled with snarky remarks, (things that are true), his touch becomes harsh, like Near can't be destroyed.

He can.

"Are you waiting now? Because it soon will arrive. Soon you will see that you are not a L, you are nothing."

_Nothing, nothing, nothing_.

Is Near really nothing (he is.)

A second later, Light's fist rends through Near's face. The blood comes, so fast, feels so warm, covers him whole. The pain is indescribable, impossible to handle and, soon, Light is over him, fingers clutching Near's face, feel the blood-stained tears that Near can't prevent from falling.

Near never cries. But this. This. For him it's hell. He rather die now. Please.

"P-P-Please," Near whispers and weakly tries to push Light away, but he can't move, his bones are limp, they don't work with him anymore.

Please.

"Please," Light grins and carefully lets the round buttons slide through the holes in the pajama-shirt, mouth so close it can lick him, drain him away. He leaves Near exposed, exposed to the daggers, to the blades clawing through him and his world. "How pathetic."

"Please," Near tries again. "Go away."

"No," Light says, simple as that. Light will never go away. Light will be there until the struggle is over.

Near already knows who's going to win. The odds are not even anymore. Maybe, they never were.

His brain doesn't work. He can't think. Light will outsmart him.

It's close now.

—

Light has two sides. Or rather, Near creates those two sides of him.

One side wants to rip him to shreds, claw through him like an animal, making him bleed, become human, drown in his own pity. One side makes him so mad, everything about Near is so inhuman, egoistic and vainglorious—he can't be L, L was not like that. One side wants to make him suffer before he dies, letting the pain linger, linger until it finally takes him.

But Light is not one people, he's two.

Kira and Light are not the same person, they can't be.

One side wants to lift him up after his own massacre, softly lean him close and tell him that everything is okay. One side looks at his disaster and reasons that there has to be another way to do this. One side reminds him that Near is a person and not a machine, that he feels, he feels in his own way.

Kira doesn't listen, Kira doesn't reason, Kira needs to win. Kira is going to win.

Near is not a threat anymore. His name will be written in the notebook.

"I beg you," Near whimpers, in a tone more desperate than Light has ever heard before, "stop this. Can you make it stop?"

Kira and Light are not the same person and Light will never fully be erased. He is still there. He is there when Kira will take reign.

"Yes," Light says, softly again, and gently strokes that pale, impossible fragile cheek of the boy's face. "Soon."

_Soon_.

Kira is a monster, Light is a person. The world needs Kira and Kira has to win.

_So soon. _

_Near._

_Goodbye._

_You lost._

—

fin


End file.
